“Right. Okay. It seems strange to me that a Justice would spend his whole week here and then come in on a Friday night for the fun of it. So he’s obviously here for a reason. Maybe he’s got some papers to review, something he doesn’t want to commit to his computer or share with his wife, and we know he was a computer buff. What he wants is privacy. So what are these papers? He pulls them out of his coat since he didn’t bring his briefcase—”
“Unless the killer took the briefcase,” Ben said.
“The guards said he didn’t have one,” Savich said. “Said he pulled out a sheaf of papers along with other stuff to go through security. He didn’t have to do this, naturally, but it was one of his habits. So he’s sitting here reading, relaxed, and then he hears something.”
“Yes,” Sherlock said. “He hears something, and it pulls him out of his reading. He looks up, maybe he calls out, then maybe he’s suddenly scared, wants to call for help. He gets out of the chair to use the wall phone.”
Savich picked it up. “Since there was no warning, no fight, it was probably at that moment that his killer came up behind him and looped the garrote around his neck.”
Sherlock said, “And it was a man. The M.E. says there’s no way a woman could have gotten the leverage to do the job. Remember, he had to loosen the loop at some point to get the shirt collar out of the way, and he had to be strong.”
Savich said, “There were two cuts on the Justice’s neck, which means the killer started pulling it tight but Califano’s shirt was in the way. And so he loosened it, gave the Justice a chance to slip his fingers underneath it, and then he finished it off.”
Sherlock said, “The pressure was so great, the wire so sharp, that it cut right through the bones of his fingers. The killer must have worn gloves. This was brutal, almost gleefully brutal.”
Ben said, “Why do you say that?”
Sherlock shook her head. “I don’t know, really, it just feels that way to me.”
Ben said, “I wonder if Justice Califano knew who the man was. I wonder if the man said anything to him before he choked him to death, or did he come up behind him and do the job without a word.”
Sherlock said, her head cocked to one side, “I think this guy talked to Justice Califano, taunted him after he had that wire around his neck, after he was sure he had control. We’ve got a good-sized ego here. This is a guy who’s full of himself, strong enough to take down a man like Califano, a good-sized, fit man for his age.
“The guy took huge risks here, knocking out that guard, coming back into the building wearing the guard’s clothes, assuming he’d blend in so he could roam free in the building. Since it was late at night, there was a good chance he could slip up to the third-floor library unnoticed, unless one of the other guards spoke directly to him.”
Ben stared at the two of them. “You know what, guys? There were far easier ways to do this if all he wanted was to kill Justice Califano. Why would he choose to kill him right here in the Supreme Court Building, ostensibly terrorist-proof, heavily guarded? Was he making a point? Is he just crazy? Sherlock said the murderer was gleefully brutal. This guy sounds like a professional, but he didn’t behave like one.”
“If he is a professional,” Sherlock said, “there must be a huge paycheck at the end of it.”
Savich said quietly. “And if he is a professional, he enjoys his work. Could be the money’s secondary.”
“Again,” Sherlock said, “we get back to Ben’s point. Why take all those unnecessary risks to murder Justice Califano?”
“If we find that out, we’ve got him,” Savich said.
Ben looked from one to the other and back again, his eyes finally resting on Savich’s face. “Maybe it was some sort of test, some sort of a challenge.”
“Maybe,” Savich said. “But it could also have been someone who hated Justice Califano’s guts to such an extent that he wanted not only to hurt him badly before he killed him, he also wanted to humiliate him, and maybe the Supreme Court itself, and that’s why he chose to do it here.”
Sherlock lightly touched her fingers to the glossy library table, the rich wood glowing in the dim early afternoon light. “I think the killer had to be a professional. Otherwise, if it was someone who knew him, someone who hated him deeply, then I’ll bet he would have been smart and gotten him someplace private and killed him with as little risk as possible.”
“So this was for enjoyment because it’s the way the guy gets his jollies,” Ben said. “For Feds,” he continued after a moment, looking back and forth between them as they both nodded, “you guys are making some sense. So you’re thinking professional regardless of the risks he took?”
Sherlock nodded. “We’ll check on the whereabouts of all the professional assassins with anything like this M.O.—using a garrote, liking big risks. Think that might track?”
“Yeah, I do,” said Ben. “No terrorists at all in this scenario then.”
Savich said, “We’ll cover all the bases. The CIA is already deep into it. So far, there’s nothing, and no one has claimed any responsibility. Revenge sounds good to me, something up close and personal.”
“Not a random madman or an extremist of some persuasion?”
“Could be, but it doesn’t feel right.”
As they walked from the Supreme Court Building on East Capitol Street, Ben said, “You want to know the truth about something? If someone wants you dead, you’re dead. You can have the Praetorian Guard, motion sensors, a gazillion alarm systems, it wouldn’t matter.”
Savich said, “You’re right, of course, but no one is willing to accept that. Now, we’ve got a murdered Supreme Court Justice, so that means endless and exhaustive media attention from every talking head who’s ever been a cop, or just thinks he’s smart, and the President will likely get twice-a-day briefings on our progress. Everyone will focus on the murder for maybe a day and a half, then turn their attention to who the President will nominate to take Justice Califano’s place on the Court.
“In the meantime, we’ll have unlimited resources, both federal and local, and huge expectations to live up to.”
Sherlock said, “It all comes down to the fact that our Justice Califano made a big-time enemy, so this gives us another starting place, the money behind the murder.”
“So alibis don’t mean diddly squat,” Ben said, “if this big-time enemy didn’t want to get blood on his own hands.”
“That’s about it.” Savich yawned. He was tired to his bones what with staying up half the night thinking about what happened in that house in the Poconos and getting called so early on Saturday morning to come back to Washington. He wondered if his father, FBI agent Buck Savich, had enjoyed sleeping in on a Saturday morning sometimes, at least once a decade.
SATURDAY AFTERNOON
J ED C OOMBES , editor for
Callie held the phone to her ear but tuned him out. Jed always used six sentences to say what he could say in one. He was understandably pissed, since he saw her as his direct pipeline to the background on the story, and she let him rant, even toss in condolences when a tug of his long-forgotten manners kicked in. She waited for him to run down, like a wind-up toy. He said the words Pulitzer Prize at least three times. Finally, he was reduced to panting a bit because he hadn’t taken a single breath in his entire rant.
“I understand, Jed,” she said at last, “but the bottom line is that it was my stepfather, and my mother needs me. It doesn’t matter that I’m a reporter, I will not go against the FBI on this, and I’ve promised them I’d stay away from work for a while. Surely you don’t want to see this case compromised because I shot off my mouth.”
“It’s not my job to care about the FBI’s case. It’s my job to run a newspaper.”
She smiled into her cell. “I’ll speak to you again after the funeral, Jed. My mom’s in pretty bad shape, as you can imagine. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“Callie, why don’t you speak to your mom, get me some personal stuff here—”
“No, Jed.”
She heard some ripe curses, then a deep sigh. “You’ll let me know the instant you have all the funeral details? Regardless of the specifics, you can be sure there’ll be a big service, probably with the President and everyone in line to be President. They’ll be up there saying how great a man Califano was even if they might have hated him. Come on, Callie, there’s a lot going on that has nothing to do with the investigation.”
